


the meaning of work and self-sacrifice

by jalagi



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24160171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jalagi/pseuds/jalagi
Summary: a morally dubious doctor (henry) is assigned to care for a wounded police officer (frederick) in a futuristic dystopia.
Relationships: Frederick/Henry (Fire Emblem)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 12





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

  * For [my sister with fire emblem brain rot](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=my+sister+with+fire+emblem+brain+rot).



Due to the incessant beeping that resonates within the sanitized, emotionless walls of the hospital, Henry feels a migraine beginning to sprout from his temples. Emitting a brief groan, he rubs at his temples with his fingers, allowing his lids to flutter shut. He inhales slowly, lungs filling in gradually in an effort to alleviate his building sense of dissatisfaction with his current occupation when his attention is stolen from his coworker across an adjacent hallway. 

“Doctor!” The nurse calls, and he releases what breath he had in a brief, aggravated exhale, and he then abruptly rises from his chair.

“What is it?” He asks, tone strained with a forced smile to match. However, the nurse had grown accustomed to the tense atmosphere that regularly surrounded Henry, and the nurse swiftly replies, “A new patient. He’s in a lot of—“

The nurse is interrupted by the patient shouting within the hallway, “I must persevere! I need to finish the case!”

There is a visible flicker of emotion that crosses Henry’s countenance before he turns away from the nurse, addressing the makeshift cot of said new patient—a taller man with chocolate strands of hair that curl delicately against the sharp angle of his jaw. Henry briefly takes note of the patient’s notes before addressing him, unable to withhold his gaze from the patient for too long—Frederick, he learns, is his new patient.

“Frederick,” he begins, resting a hand on the other’s ankle at the end of his bed. “I notice you disagreed to being administered pain medication injected via IV. Are you afraid of needles?” He proposes, meeting Fredrick’s gaze as the other is seething in pain beneath the thin and grimy blanket.

“There are others who are in greater need of it than I am.” He despondently replies, meekly gesturing to another patient several cots away. “That older woman should have the medication. She doesn’t deserve to suffer so much at her age.”

“I see,” Henry retorts, gaze flickering downward to readdress the patient’s notes as he writes a few notes, including one of which is a code he developed himself to ensure no other coworkers could decipher, describes Frederick as ‘good looks, dumb idiot.’

“What a weird dream to die for.” The hospitalist surmises in a low murmur as he continues reading the patient’s file. “So, gunshot wounds to the abdominal, and you will need reconstructive surgery for your hand that also suffered a gunshot wound.” He says, flicking the pencil to his note-taking device back and forth. 

While Henry is occupied with reading the patient’s profile, Fredrick catches sight of two men who enter the hallway, pushing the same elderly woman he had gestured to onto the cold tiled floor where the tiles are crumbling away from the lack of care against the waves of time, and she falls with a lifeless thump, no other sounds emanating from her throat. Fredrick turns, lifting his upper half upward from the cot with his forearms pressing against the rough burlap-like fabric, addressing the hospitalist at his bedside. He makes an effort to summon any words, but he can only watch as the same two men fill the cot immediately with a frail young girl struggling for every breath.

“This place is awful.” Fredrick murmurs, mien crestfallen as he regretfully addresses the doctor once more. “Doctor, do you have no conscious? You should help her before—“

A vibrant smile appears across Henry’s lips, and simply the sight of it causes Fredrick to fall silent. “I'm following orders. I address those with the lowest rate of surviving last as to ensure people like you survive.” He says, taking note of the young girl with a brief sigh. “I will put her out of her misery soon.”

Henry closes the notes application for the final time, wordlessly turning away from Frederick, of which Frederick assumes the doctor will administer his time appropriately with the young girl. 

While Frederick would ordinarily deem it immoral to watch, he’s unable to tear his gaze away from the doctor. Despite despising the hospitalist for what Frederick has already found the other being absent of any moral compass, he’s inexplicably drawn to how Henry’s gaze softens as he approaches the young girl. 

The window above her modest cot allows the remaining sunlight left from the dying sunlight to illuminate Henry’s face. Fredrick can tell Henry’s gaze remains on the vial of pain medication, never daring to encroach upon the young girl’s dying frame. With a single push of the syringe, the traces of life ebb away from her pupils, dust dancing in the beams above her as if blessing her for a safe passage into the afterlife.

Henry flicks the syringe away from her vein with masterful proficiency. He catches Frederick’s gaze as if he knew the other was watching the entire time, casting the other a bright grin despite the shadows now growing more apparent swimming within his eyes. “Nonstop pain is no fun for anyone, so I try to make it quick.”


	2. Chapter 2

Frederick’s eyes warily open after what his body aches from an extended period of rest. He brushes the thin blanket from over his large frame, feeling his muscles ache from his brief period of skipping training as he swings his feet to rest against the tiled floor. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pauses, trying to reclaim awareness over his present self.

Once his pupils are able to focus appropriately, he casts his gaze to the window above his bed. The brilliant yellow beams from the rising sun radiate between the gaps in the blinds, illuminating the decrepit hospital floor with horizontal bars that run horizontally along the cracked tiles.

Frederick’s gaze refocuses, transfixing his attention on the early morning dust making lazy swirls in the still atmosphere. At this hour, he notices, the hospital is drastically different than it is when the sun is swallowed by the horizon as the building itself threatens to collapse beneath the weight of all of the corpses collected at the end of the day. He fondly recalls when funerals were arranged with diligence and families were able to mourn their losses; however by this point in the war, anyone—knight or civilian—was lucky to have a family to leave behind.

The patient next to him, a beer-bellied older man, snores audibly enough to detract Frederick from his train of thought, stealing him just in time to catch sight of that… strange doctor.

“Doctor Henry?” He asks in hopes of hearing how long he had slept, yet he notices the other’s worried expression a bit too late. “Doctor Henry!” He calls louder this time, rousing a few patients from their likely drug-induced sleep states—or from simply passing out from the pain. However, Henry disappears behind a pair of doors, and he’s able to hear the other climbing the staircase to ascend to the rooftop.

With the hallway remaining otherwise empty of medical staff, Frederick follows the doctor in pursuit of answering his questions—how long was he asleep? Why was he asleep for so long? In his absence and from what he could remember, the building’s infrastructure was beginning to buckle beneath the influence of time, and Frederick was fearful such a drastic change didn’t occur in infrastructure within a few days.

After ducking his head to clear the doors due to his tall height, he stands there in his patient slacks—what did he find?

The doctor was encircled by several crows, with some perching on his shoulder, his extended index finger, or the rooftop’s railing. The early morning breeze gently tousles his white hair as his back is facing him, and Frederick observes as it appears Henry was an interlocutor amongst the birds’ conversation.

“What are you…” Frederick begins, yet he finds himself at a loss for words, especially as he feels the crows beginning to notice him. Henry cocks his head a few degrees, as if in question to something a crow had said—and suddenly, hundreds of crows appear in a swarm above him, gathering from nearby into a perfectly unified ebony swarm against the orange sky. Their eyes fixate on Frederick, but Henry has yet to turn around to address him.

“Henry!” He calls to the other, mistakenly considering the crows as recruits of the enemy faction. He rushes forward, seizing the other by his wrist before beginning to pull him inside the hospital building.

The doctor tosses a judgmental look over his shoulder despite the sickeningly sweet, toothless smile spread across his lips. “I see you have awoken! Are you taking me from my family for us to elope together? How splendid!” He remarks cheerily despite digging his shoe against the concrete in protest to being dragged back inside, and he adds in a low murmur, “Except not even a hunk like you can hide from the crows.”


End file.
